


Paralytic Attraction

by therogueheart



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Employer/Employee, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate universe - not canon compliant, Cum Play, Dark Tony Stark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Doggy Style, Explicit Rape, Explicit Sexual Content, Induced Paralysis, Intentional Paralysis, Intern Peter Parker, Interns & Internships, Iron Man 1, Iron Man 2, Iron Man 3, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Paralytic Sex, Paralytic Sexual Content, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unprotected Sex, ceo tony stark, temporary paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 18:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20783459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therogueheart/pseuds/therogueheart
Summary: Tony shifted, drew the device from his pocket before Peter could fully react and pressed in, arms pressing underneath Peter’s in a sort of hug as he touched it lightly between the boy’s shoulderblades. The reaction was instant, Peter’s body suddenly going lifeless against his own, his panicked sound half cut off as his head dropped to Tony’s shoulder. Tony smirked slowly, looking out into the glass as he simply stood for a moment, holding Peter’s helpless form upright.





	Paralytic Attraction

Tony was a problem-solver. A thinker. He was smart, calculated. Prided himself on his ability to provide the solution to the equation. 

He turned the device over in his hands slowly, a cat-got-the-cream smile curving his lips. Yes. He was good at overcoming challenges. And this particular challenge had evaded him for a while. Had been so tiresome. 

It had sparked his interest, at first. Called to some baser, primal instinct within himself. To chase. Earn. Claim. 

_His boy. _

His gaze slid upwards, over the desk to the lone photo-frame next to his computer. He was not normally one for sentiment. For something so quaint as a photograph on his desk. Except. 

Peter looked _debauched_, his hair messy, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen. Stubble burn tinted the corners of his mouth and scraped a sloppy pattern down his jaw. His shirt was tugged a little off to the left. He was kneeling at Tony’s side. 

_That_. That was his problem. That precious, dumb little boy that spooked any time Tony tried to take what was his. 

In a laughable sort of irony, it had been Pepper and her do-no-evil sense of morality that had brought this precious, delicious piece of meat into his life. In a desperate bid to rein him in, she had organised a contest, the idea that giving Tony someone to mentor/work alongside, someone who could challenge him, someone to watch him when she could not, might _change_ him. Force him onto the path of the right and regular. 

It had, inevitably, backfired in the most spectacular of ways. 

Rather than the winner being some middle-aged, bullheaded, mildly-successful person that would hopefully put him off doing anything untoward, the winner had been one _Peter Parker_. 

Freshly sixteen, barely up to Tony’s chin and as sweet as they came. He had big, round eyes that were always filled with wonder and adoration. He was lithe, enjoyed track and swimming with his friends and had been rewarded with cute little biceps and a flat, firm tummy. 

Pepper had been in the foyer, desperately trying to dissuade Peter from taking his winnings when Tony had arrived. He’d just come from a meeting, but was vaguely aware that her little contest had met it’s end. He’d been loosening his tie, ready to chew out whatever pathetic wanna-be had won when he’d stopped, gaze zeroing in on a petite figure, messy brown curls and a little binder tucked under his arm. 

And who was Tony to let such an opportunity go? 

So he had swooped in, as charming as he could ever force himself to be. Had gushed over how astounded he was over Peter winning, how _delightful_ the boy seemed. How _excited_ he was to mentor such a brilliant, young mind. Peter had been so easy to snatch up. All wide-eyes and stuttering over meeting his idol. Blushing furiously at each compliment. 

Roping the boy in was as easy as breathing. Tony paid careful attention to him, over the first month. Carefully tended to each little seed he planted. Would offer Peter to join him for lunch, a hand low on his back as he guided him around, did much more than the basic terms of the competition contract set as a base. 

Tony hadn’t needed long. The boy, idolising Tony though he did, had also been clearly, blatantly attracted to him. Stared each time he fiddled with his tie. Leaned into every touch. His lashes fluttered each time Tony praised him. When Tony begun to invade his space, the boy barely held himself together. 

And _yet. _

For all of that, Peter had never allowed him more than kissing, more than desperate grinding until the boy was whimpering, shyly pulling away with stuttered excuses before scampering off. He was terrified, and at first, that had been downright _delectable_. The adorable way Peter fought against his own desires. The almost pleading way he would beg for it, only to leave Tony hard and aching, tending to himself as he thought of the boy. 

It had worn off pretty quickly. 

Tony no longer found it desirable, when the boy jerked away mid-touch, fumbling to right himself and run away. It was frustrating. And Tony _so_ disliked anything that annoyed him, no matter how pretty. He had tried, at first. Coaxed and smiled, tried to understand. To gentle Peter into it. 

He had tried to push, only lightly. Encourage. Held Peter in place, when the boy tried to flee. But the panic in his eyes would rise, he would squirm and whimper and blabble about _please don’t, I can’t _and _Mr. Stark we shouldn’t. _

It was a problem. One Tony had never had so much incentive to solve. And the solution had become apparent almost immediately. Had struck him early one morning, when he jerked awake from a nightmare, chest heaving and eyes wide. 

Obidiah Stane had been useful for one thing, at the least, he mused as he turned it over in his hands again, ran his thumb along the activation button. It was a refined, better version of the paralytic device that the man has used on Tony himself, a time long ago. It was a simple looking thing, he had re-designed it so. It looked like nothing more than a black tube, tapering off into a soft point. 

It was the perfect solution. Tony had considered drugs, at first. Perhaps a strong sedative. But that wouldn’t do. He wanted Peter to experience it, to remember it. To savour that first taste of what Tony could offer, so that he would come running back, begging for more. If he was unconscious, that wouldn’t happen. 

With this, Peter would get to experience everything. Tony’s mouth, his hands. The downright sinful way his soft little body would open up around his cock. This little solution simply meant he would not be able to run away this time. Would not be able to leave Tony angered and hard, denied again that tender meat he wanted to sink his teeth into. 

“_Sir, Mr. Parker has arrived at your floor. Shall I allow him entry_?” JARVIS’ polite voice disturbed his thoughts, and Tony lifted his head, unable to contain a smirk as he pocketed the device and arranged himself on his chair, feigning the look of a man deep in his work. 

“Let him in” he commanded, fixing his gaze to his laptop. Polite as ever, Peter knocked lightly a few moments later and waited for Tony’s permission for entering, peeking around the door as he pushed it open. Tony made a point of continuing to type, allowing only a brief glance Peter’s way. 

His boy was dressed as smartly as ever, a neat black sweater with roses lining the arms and a pair of skinny-fit jeans, as black as the sweater. Polished, neat oxfords. Around his neck hung his Stark lanyard, something he didn’t _have_ to wear but seemed to take great pride in brandishing. 

Peter padded quietly across the room and stood before the desk, crossing his wrists in front of himself and waiting patiently. Tony let him, for a long moment, before he leaned back in his chair, tossing Peter a doting smile. Peter reacted best when Tony was gentle, soft. Though he appreciated a firm, guiding presence. 

“Are you having a good day, Peter?” He asked after a moment, fingers drifting to his tie to loosen it, before he did the same with the cuffs at his wrist. Peter’s head ducked a little, cheeks pinking and a small smile bunching his cheeks. He was spending the day with marketing, learning how Stark Industries promoted not only Tony’s Iron Man ventures, but the company’s breakthroughs. 

“Oh, Mr. Stark. It’s really interesting. I’ve done stuff with graphic development and Ms. Whitson is really knowledgeable. Thank you so much for letting me go” Peter rushed to say back, shuffling on the spot where he stood. Tony gave a gracious smile in response, standing and moving away to position himself at the large, panelled window. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, sweetheart. It pleases me when you’re happy” he murmured back, watching the bustle of city life from his fortress. An Iron Man mural had been painted on a building-side, in plain view of the Tower. It made Tony smirk a little. How would they worship him, if the knew what he was really like?

“Come here, Peter” he commanded, keeping his tone soft, but with no space for argument. Not that Peter would, because the boy immediately moved to obey, scampering across the carpet to stand a step behind his side. Tony let him look for a few seconds before taking his arm, spinning him so that his back pressed against the cold glass. Peter squeaked, but didn’t try to move away, blinking owlishly up at Tony with a shy smile. 

“I told you that you’d enjoy it, didn’t I?” He asked, lifting his gaze to the city again. Peter shifted against him, hands neatly tucked behind his back. 

“You did, Mr. Stark” Peter responded, voice prim and polite. Tony smiled, lifting his hand to run it over Peter’s soft hair as he kept his gaze up, away. The strands were silken under his touch, just the barest hint of spray. Peter used to gel his hair into style, back in his early days at Stark Industries, but a sharp, passing comment from Tony had the boy using spray. It kept his hair soft, fluffy. Easier to pull, to grab. 

“Mm, I did. I knew what you’d like, didn’t I, baby? I told you I knew you would enjoy something, you tried it, and you did enjoy it. Just like I knew you would, even if you didn’t” Tony continued, voice soft, low as he let his hand fall away to the wall, bracketing Peter. Peter made a soft sound in response and in his peripheral, Tony could see those pretty, sculpted brows pulling together a little. 

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” It came out as a question, but Tony allowed it, dropping his gaze down to the precious little boy. At his look, the confused frown disappeared, replaced by a small, tentative smile. 

“You trusted me to make a choice for you, mm?” Tony ignored, raising his gaze back to the bright city below. What it was about to witness, without seeing a single thing. It made Tony’s body practically ignite, the desire and anticipation curling through his insides. What this beautiful little boy was about to feel. 

“I…I guess I did, Mr. Stark” Peter replied, voice a little slow now, more unsure. The poor boy had no idea what Tony was getting at, and Tony simultaneously loved it and resented it. He was always praising his boy for being so smart. How long, before he actually figured out where this was leading? 

“Yes. You trust me to make choices about things you will like. Just…Not when it comes to your sweet little body” Tony remarked, catching the flicker of panic in Peter’s eyes and shifting, crushing Peter’s body between his own and the glass before the boy could skirt around him. Peter cried out lightly, hands coming up to grasp at Tony’s jacket. He neither pushed nor pulled, however, and Tony moved a hand, smoothing at his hair reassuringly. 

“_Hush_, sweetheart. Am I hurting you? No. Don’t be scared, my baby” he coaxed, running his fingers through the silky twists of Peter’s hair. The boy’s eyes remained wide, body tense, but he didn’t try to fight or run, pressing himself back against the glass to stare up Tony. “See? I could never hurt you. I could never be truly cruel to you”. Peter’s brows pulled again and he opened his mouth, the panic building again. 

Tony shifted, drew the device from his pocket before Peter could fully react and pressed in, arms pressing underneath Peter’s in a sort of hug as he touched it lightly between the boy’s shoulderblades. The reaction was instant, Peter’s body suddenly going lifeless against his own, his panicked sound half cut off as his head dropped to Tony’s shoulder. Tony smirked slowly, looking out into the glass as he simply stood for a moment, holding Peter’s helpless form upright. 

“I never said I wouldn’t be cruel _at all_” he murmured, ducking his head to speak lowly into Peter’s ear as he made sure the carefully turn the device off before stowing it away, shifting Peter’s weight to one arm. The boy was barely a hundred and ten soaking wet, lithe and lean like a dancer. Tony was gentle, careful as he cradled Peter’s head, stooped to sneak a hand behind his thighs and haul him up into a bridal carry. 

“I tried so hard, sweetheart. Believe me, I really did. I was patient, I let you run away each time you got scared. But you just kept running” he divulged, voice sorrowful as he turned away from the window, carrying Peter to the middle of the room where he lowered himself to one knee, ever so gently draping his boy out onto the plush carpet. He moved his hands, cradling Peter’s head so that it wouldn’t loll and those beautiful, light brown eyes bore into his own, glossy from a thick layer of tears welling to the surface. 

Tony gazed down at him for a short moment, watching in rapt attention as the tears built up until they caught on his lashes and rolled down the soft rise of Peter’s cheeks. Tony wanted to lean down, to lick them away, but he didn’t smiling softly down at the frozen form as he stroked a thumb against the soft, hairless skin of his jaw. 

“You don’t know how good it can be, baby. How _special _you’d feel, sinking down onto me, feeling me buried deep inside you” he hushed, pulling away to stroke Peter’s shoulder, his chest. Firm and small under his palm. “Is that why you kept spooking, my little bird? Taking off each time I tried to show you? You just didn’t know?” He asked, largely talking to himself as he moved his hand lower, over the trim little tummy. It was lax but still slim under his touch, the muscles defined, though he lacked in bulk. 

“Or maybe you _do_ know, huh? Maybe _that’s_ what scares you. How good it feels, having someone fucking deep into you, stretching your little body around them. Insides making room” he continued, dug his fingers against the sharp rise of Peter’s hipbone. The boy whimpered, but was powerless to move from the touch. Tony used his other hand to push the sweater up, revelling in the imprint his touch left behind. Tony had half a mind to cut the sweater off, but he actually rather liked it, and so he didn’t. 

Instead he handled the boy lightly, manoeuvred one arm behind him to lift his hips from the ground in order to ruck the sweater up to his little pecs. Peter’s body was largely unblemished, bar a little bruise at his right ribs. Perhaps he had bumped into a door? Tony pressed his thumb firmly against it, watched another little tear drip down onto the carpet. 

“Remind me about that after this, baby boy. We can get some nice, soothing cream on it for you” Tony hummed, shifted to throw a leg over Peter and straddle those slim little hips. Peter’s body felt so dainty under his own, hips sharp against his thighs. Peter’s head had tipped to the side, but his chest heaved with shaky, terrified breaths as Tony reached down, breathed in the fruity, fragrant scent of his perfume. 

Tony knows the scent off by heart. He bought it, after all. Had the box wrapped in silken, pink paper and had presented it to Peter during the time he had tried spoiling him into sex. It hadn’t given him the result he had hoped, but it was pleasant none the less to know the boy wore it each day, delighting in the gift. 

“Careful with your head, darling” Tony murmured, cradling Peter’s head as he rearranged his arms. Taking the sweater off was a little awkward in process, but Tony folded it up neatly when he was done and set it aside, leaning back against Peter’s thighs to admire him. He was all soft, pale skin and lean form. Tony wanted to bite, mark._ Claim_. 

“You’re so naughty, hiding this from me. I should reprimand you, but how can I, hm? When you look this good” Tony huffed, shaking his head as he reached down, pinching one little rosy nipple. Peter sniffled beneath him, a soft, weak sound rising from his throat. Tony made a gentle shushing sound, running his hands down Peter’s taut little body. 

“Don’t worry, baby boy. This isn’t about anything except showing you how _good _I can make you feel. Proving to you I’m right about knowing you’ll like it” he comforted, pressing at Peter’s hip once more before rising, careful not to kick the boy as he approached his desk, stowed away the device. He’d be impressed it worked perfectly first run, but then. He had built it himself. 

He picked up the little tub of lube, toyed with it as he walked back towards Peter, crouching down and using a finger to turn Peter’s head, enough he could see the pot of lube that Tony held out. Peter made a pathetic mewling sound, fresh tears clumping his lashes together. Tony _tssked _softly, but set the lube down and moved again, straddling Peter’s calves lightly and tracing his finger over the thin little belt at his waist. 

There was a peek of red behind the dark denim and Tony had to stop himself from just reaching out, _tearing _the fitting fabric. Instead he worked the buckle, watched the way Peter gazed helplessly off toward the far wall. Peter’s hips were easy to lift, Tony pulling the leather free and then gripping his waistband, yanking those slim little jeans down to Peter’s thighs. 

Peter wore _tiny _little red boxers, barely more than the type marketed for women. It lit something deep in Tony’s gut that coiled like an angry snake and he let out a harsh breath, dipping a finger against the soft cotton. Peter was crying openly now, breaths short and hitching as Tony traced the thin line of material. “Does this make me the big, bad wolf?” Tony asked, voice sharp as he shifted, rising to tug the tight material down further, to Peter’s knees. 

It wasn’t until he crawled off Peter, moving to unlace those polished little shoes that he noticed Peter hardly had hair anywhere. There was the thinnest, softest layer of down leading from just under his knees, but his thighs were bare, and at a glance, he was missing the typical happy-trail. Tony sucked in a sharp breath, ran his palms flat down those soft, naked little legs. 

He wasted no time in setting Peter’s shoes aside, noting the fact his boy was wearing Christmas socks of all things, before he carefully raised each leg in turn, tugging off the denim and beginning to fold the material carefully. “I’m sorry I had to do this, baby. Really, I am. I know you’re scared. If you didn’t look so _edible _right now, I’d feel a little guilty about it” Tony begun, voice soft and shushing as he set the fabric aside. 

“But the thing is - I don’t like to wait. I’m not a patient man, Peter, though I tried to be. You’re so sweet, so _genuine_, I wanted to try and wait. Help you come to the realisation, all by yourself. but you never did” his voice tinged with a little faux hurt on the end, reaching up to swiftly take off his own tie, rolling it and placing it near Peter’s clothes before he shed his jacket. This, he discarded carefully to the side, not bothering to fold it as he would be utilising it shortly. His belt followed. He eyed it for a moment, before setting it down close. 

Stripping himself is perfunctory, orderly. Peter can’t see him at this angle, so he didn’t waste time in displaying his body, their clothing in neat little piles, off to the side. When his Gucci boxers join the mix, his cock was already flushed and hard, curved up against his stomach. Tony shifted, grasped Peter’s chin with less tenderness than he had before, forcing the boy to look. A stifled little wail bubbled up in the boy’s throat, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, salting his lips. 

“Oh, baby boy. Crying is such a good look on you” Tony grinned, letting go of Peter’s jaw in order to grasp at his waistband, tugging. Peter’s ass causes as much resistance to the fabric as it did the jeans, and Tony had no shame in groping the round, firm meat to work off the little, red short-shorts. Peter’s own dick is resolutely soft, resting against the groove of his thigh. It’s slim, not as large as Tony’s, but the boy is hardly fully grown. It’s cut, like Tony’s. 

“Maybe the next time you tease me like a naughty little boy, I’ll suck that pretty little dick of yours, hm? Suck you down, make you feel good. Maybe I’ll lower myself to your place, let you cum down my throat. Would you like that?” He asked, continuing the one-sided conversation. Peter’s noise in response was desperate, pleading. Tony knew the boy wasn’t pleading for it to happen. 

“Easy now, sweetheart” he coaxed, moving to Peter’s side in order to roll the boy carefully over onto his stomach. He grasped Peter’s slender wrists and brought them up, bent comfortably at Peter’s head as though he was merely sleeping. He moved then, grasping Peter’s sweater and his own jacket and folding them carefully together, lifting Peter’s head gently to place it on the makeshift pillow. After a pause he carefully arranged Peter’s legs so his left was straight and his right was bent up at his side, exposing the delicious dip into that perky ass. Peter was as clean there as everywhere else. 

“Well, look at that, now. Such a good, pretty boy, all cleaned up and neat” he cooed, running his thumbs just down the inside of Peter’s asscheeks before he drew back, wrapping a hand around his own straining cock whilst the other reached for the lube. A few idle strokes to keep himself at optimum hardness and then he was popping the cap on the tub, dipping two fingers into the cold gel. “I’d warm it up, but. You’ve been so naughty, recently. I think you can handle a little cold, yes?” He asked, parting Peter’s cheeks and wasting no time in massaging the coolness against his skin. 

Peter’s hole was a peachy-pink, a tight little furl of muscle that made Tony’s blood _sing_. How fucking tight he’d be, squeezing around his cock. It was almost enough that he wanted to dive in right then, right there. Peter’s hitching sobs were musical to his ears as he rubbed firmly at the sweet little bud, body trembling just slightly. Tony praised himself once more for perfecting the paralytic device as he shifted, draping himself over Peter’s body to kiss at his shoulder as he pressed one thick, long finger forwards, felt the tight muscle resist just barely before giving in like breathing, drawing him inside. 

Peter was all warm, tight heat. Plush, velvety-soft muscle that hugged his finger as it sucked him in, parting around him willingly. The boy was as clean inside as he was out, and Tony allowed a brief moment to wonder if the boy had planned this. Well…Not exactly this, but. Something along these lines. “You feel so tight, baby. That sweet, virgin little body. Sucking me right in. You’ve been neglecting yourself, haven’t you? Your body has been _desperate _for this and you’ve denied it” Tony murmured, bit at the smooth muscle of Peter’s shoulder. It didn’t so much as twitch under his bite. 

He shifted, used his hips to press down on his hand as though fucking Peter, driving into the welcoming flesh to the last knuckle and pressing firmer still, so the muscle bent inwards at his touch. Peter’s hitching mewls increased and he took pity, drew back in order to begin a pulsing, steady rhythm. Peter’s body squeezed around him on each movement, a pleasant drag on skin-on-flesh that had Tony breathing a little harder, hand coming to clench as Peter’s delicate hip. “Feel that, sweetheart? How your body is taking me in? How good that feels?” He asked in a hushed tone, eyes glittering dark in the mid-day sun. 

Several more moments passed and Tony’s patience wore thin, withdrawing his finger briefly in order to dip them back into the lube. He sunk his index finger deep into that delicious space again, before he flexed his palm, pressed his middle finger against the now slick, warm ring. He tried to be gentle as he forced it in alongside the other, but Peter still let out a broken wail, sniffling against the fabric of their clothing. Tony twisted his fingers, not bothering to spread them for a moment as he searched. He knew when he found it, pressing up against a soft little nub and listening to Peter keen suddenly, high and startled. 

“See, darling? I told you, didn’t I? Doesn’t that feel so delicious, hm?” He asked, rubbed relentlessly at the nub with his index finger as he scissored the two digits, working on spreading Peter’s delicate little entrance. The muscle was tight, but there was bodily tension there as Tony worked at it, steadily coaxing the tight ring of muscle to loosen for him. The device was still in full force. “Feel the pleasure building, sweetheart. Who knows, if you’re a good, sweet little boy, I might even let you cum” He continued. 

Three fingers went as easily as two, the stretch firm and reluctant but happening nonetheless. Peter’s sounds were raspy now, weak from continuous crying. They sent shivers down Tony’s spine, so different to the sounds Peter made on their other attempts. Minutes passed and he lost his patience again, withdrawing his fingers and adding a glob of lube over the puffy, dark pink hole before slicking up his own cock. He wiped his fingers on Peter’s thigh carefully before gathering the other bundle of clothing, lifting Peter’s hips and using the wad to keep them up. He drew Peter’s bent leg down carefully, pressing his thighs together. 

In this position, Peter would be tight like a vice. His asscheeks would squeeze whatever wasn’t buried deep inside, and Tony was almost primal with the desire to _fuck-break-claim_. He could barely hold himself together as he knelt behind Peter’s arched body, grasped his cheeks to push his throbbing cock between them, pre-cum smearing along the unmarred skin. It occurred to him then how gorgeous Peter would look, striped with whip-marks. _Another time_ he assured himself, pressing the large head of his cock against the slickness. Peter’s breath was hitching over sobs again, throat raw as Tony moved, held Peter’s hips tightly and _pushed_. 

Peter’s body gave way underneath his movements, cock sinking in slowly but surely. The muscle stretched obscenely around him, swallowing him greedily as he kept pressing. He did not stop to allow Peter to adjust, breathing out with a low groan as he sank deeper,_ deeper_. He imagined himself sinking all the way, pushing in alongside Peter’s guts, stretching him open. Imagined the soft swell of his tummy, stuffed full. It made him snarl, body dropping down so he could crush Peter against the floor, sinking his teeth into the crook of Peter’s neck harshly. Peter was struggling to breathe through his cries now, eyes shut. 

He didn’t stop until the swell of Peter’s ass meant he couldn’t go any deeper, sunk into the tight heat, his balls flush against the curve of Peter’s own. Tony was not one for waxing poetic about his sexual endeavours. A tight, wet space was as good as any other. But _Peter_. Perhaps it was the lengths he had gone to. Perhaps it was the chase, or something about the boy himself. But the squeezing, soft, hot heat around Tony’s cock was almost enough make Tony change his mind on spouting lyrical. 

Jagged, broken sounds between cries and moans were ripping themselves from Peter’s throat, loud and unpermitted. Tony found himself growling in response, teeth slowly pulling from the deep divots at Peter’s shoulder. Any harder, and he might’ve drawn blood. He laved his tongue over the wound, wet and warm. Almost apologetic. He had sort of promised not to hurt the boy, after all. The suction was almost unreal, Peter’s body hugging him close, asscheeks pressed soft but firm against his balls as he relished in the feel of it. 

When the immediate wonder had sated he shifted, ran a hand reverently down Peter’s arched, trim spine as he pulled out. Peter’s body sucked at him, as though trying to keep him inside, reluctant to let him go. It tore a low, hearty groan from his chest. “_Nngh_, feel that, my precious boy? How your body is trying to cling to me, to keep me within? Such a _good little slut_. I knew you would be” he praised, pressed weight to the small of Peter’s back as he drew away enough to see Peter’s puffy little hole swell out around the bulge of his tip. His cock was shiny with the lube, coated with the warmth of Peter’s insides. 

He shifted, gripped Peter’s thighs tight together and slammed back into that welcoming depth. Below him, Peter howled into the makeshift pillow, a broken, bent sound that had Tony forcing his hips closer, grinding deeper. The velvety embrace sent shocks of pleasure through his cock, a tingling, burning build of lust. Tony adjusted their position once more, until he was bent over Peter as though they were dogs, one forearm braced at Peter’s side on the floor and the other bent over the boy’s shoulders to drive his fingers into his hair, snatching an iron grip. 

He was careful not to lift Peter’s head, unwilling to risk damage to his neck or spine. He was not as caring with the rest of Peter’s body, however, setting a brutal rhythm that jolted Peter back and forth on the plush carpet. The boy would no doubt have friction rash by the time this was done. Each brutal drive into the soft body below punched a wounded sound from Peter’s body, senseless and guttural. It was as if the boy had given up struggling and was simply_ taking it_. Retreating until he was just dumb, forgiving meat for Tony to use. 

The idea of it had Tony fucking harder, the obscene slap of skin and wet sound of lube spurring him on. How _delightful _Peter would be, as nothing but a dumb, walking hole for his pleasure. Nothing but a senseless creature, desperate for his touch, for his cock. A true, mindless slut. He continued to pound the soft flesh, bruising Peter’s delicate insides as he panted against the boy’s temple, dragging his stubble along the soft skin to leave a red streak of claim in his wake. 

Desire made him restless and he pulled back once more, kneeling above Peters prone form as he brutalised the tender heat, hips snapping forwards. A gurgled mewl responded to his efforts as he gripped Peter’s asscheeks, watched the flesh grow red around his touch. What he would not give, to have Peter engage. To have the boy on his knees, bent like a bitch in heat, begging for Tony to cum deep within. He allowed a brief touch to the boy’s neck, to check his pulse, his airflow. The boy was fine, considering, sucking in air like a drowning man between sounds. 

He dropped again, lifted Peter’s hips with an arm to seek out his cock. The various angles had abused his prostate, evident in the way Peter’s sounds changed at each thrust, and despite himself, the boy was hard under his touch, small and slender in his grip. A hitching, jagged sob wrenched from Peter’s mouth at his touch and he smirked darkly into the boy’s shoulder, ducked his head lower to nip at the delicate flesh over his fragile ribs. “My good boy. Look at you, all hard and wanting for my touch again. _Embrace it_, sweetheart. Feel it. Let yourself enjoy it”. 

He had estimated a twenty or thirty minute time period in which the device would last. By his calculations, he was not far off, watching carefully as Peter managed to move his lips slightly, tongue catching at his teeth. Tony dug his hands in harder at the soft skin, head bowing as he fucked with renewed effort. Could not stop a moan of pleasure as he dove deep within Peter’s body, thick and stuffing him full as he pulled the pliant body back into his touch. The crash of pleasure almost rendered him useless, baring his teeth with an animalistic snarl as he came. 

The thickness flooded Peter’s body, washed over the bruised and sore flesh, painting white in its wake. He almost forgot he was gripping Peter’s cock, had only mind enough to pump him in time with the minute grind of his hips as Peter’s snug body milked him for every drop. Peter came moments after with the loudest, most wounded of sounds, like he had been punched. Hot cum dripped down his knuckles and onto the expensive carpet, liquidy and wet.

Tony breathed harshly, slowly released his grip as he draped himself over Peter, nuzzled lightly at his cheek. In his vision, the boy’s fingers twitched against the carpet. “My beautiful sweetheart. So _good _for me. You made me feel so good, darling. Don’t you see it, now? Nothing to be afraid of. _Everything_ to desire. I promised you that I would make you feel so special” he murmured sweetly, kept his weight off the boy’s abused body as he stroked carefully, gently through his hair, used his thumb to wipe at the streak of tears under his eyes. 

He had no doubt the boy would come crawling back, as soon as he was able. He was smirking once more as he pulled himself from the sweet embrace of Peter’s body, swiping a handkerchief from his pant pocket to wipe himself off, appreciatively eyeing the way that Peter’s hole stayed gaping and open, swollen and a dark red. The barest drip of cum dribbled from the brutalised entrance. 

“JARVIS. Send for my lunch. And for clean-up”.


End file.
